


Sync

by TomAyto10



Category: Hajime no Ippo | Fighting Spirit
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/pseuds/TomAyto10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ippo gets a phone call from Sendo, and gets more than conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sync

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UD98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UD98/gifts).



Ippo will defend himself by saying that it has never happened before.  
He's had problems, young and healthy man he is and whatnot, where his body is quick to respond to any stimulation, but he never thought it would do this to him.  
Ippo Makunouchi finds himself hard, in his hallway while to innocently talking on phone with Sendo Takeshi.  
He thanks all the gods that no one is home, and hopefully won't be home for awhile. In fact, he had just come in for a drink from his roadwork, when the phone had rung.  
Ippo wants to blame it on Sendo. He sounds too good over the line, a growling baritone that rumbles down his back and into a pit of pooling desire, his accent highlighting and cutting certain words in a way that reminds Ippo of the other's sharp glinting teeth. Adding to that, what he's saying, in that easy confident voice, has Ippo all twisted up and hot under his skin.  
Sendo is talking about his recent spar, one that he just finished not 10 minutes and Ippo, though he's trying to focus on imagining how the fight is going down, keeps going to places he can't dwell on for long.  
Sendo’s voice is ranging from high enthusiasm, with added sound effects, to laughing with pride as he describes how he crushed a man two weight classes above him with apparent ease.  
But all Ippo can see is how Sendo glistens with sweat, how his muscles shift under tan skin as he moves, the way his hair flies as he dodges, and his eyes...his eyes, focused and hot and alive...  
And Ippo, as a result, is very hard.  
He mostly ashamed, partly embarrassed, and he can't quite seem to wrap his head around the fact that he's been so affected by just thinking about the other man.  
They haven't seen each other in months, except for video footage and Ippo, being the student he is, has watched all of Sendo's fights multiple times.  
Enough, that he knows every hard line of that built body, knows what is hidden among the shadows, traces over them in his dreams.  
Ippo swallows the lump in his throat and tries to reign in his thoughts to focus on Sendo still talking on the phone. His hand drops down to his pants, his excuse being that he wants to readjust himself, but as his hand grips over the bulge, he hisses a little, bucks into the pressure, almost desperate for satisfaction.  
His breath is sticking to his throat, stalling out and he hopes and prays that Sendo doesn't hear.  
Sendo continues on, reliving the moment his fist smashed into his victim's liver, and Ippo sighs in relief.  
Ippo keeps the hand over himself, trying to convince himself that perhaps a steady pressure might help it go away.  
It's doesn't, of course, only serves to wind him up tighter.  
He's thinking of excusing himself for a moment, to go and jump into the ocean and come back, when Sendo stops mid sentence. The static buzz of the phone doesn't help, only makes the silence more deafening.  
“Oi, Makunouchi.” Sendo says and his voice has lost all easy tones, has turned low, almost silken, threatening and Ippo's fingers twitch, folding in harder around the heat of his pants in response.  
“Y-yes?”  
There is a beat of absolute silence again, then husky and quiet;  
“Are ya touchin’ yerself?”  
Ippo's whole body freezes, and his heart is in his throat. How could Sendo know? How? And what can he say now? There isn't enough breath in his lungs to say a word, so he squeaks out what he hopes can pass for an almost apology, a protest, some weak explanation.  
He snatches his hand away from himself, but he's harder than ever, and he wants to yell at his traitorous body. He's so ashamed and mortified he has to lean back against the wall to keep standing upright. He shouldn't admit to his dilemma, should go and take a freezing cold shower, should die right then and th-  
“Yes.” he breathes out, honesty moving his mouth before he could collect this thought from heated fog to stop them. “Sorry!” he sounds just as plantative and anxious as he feels, “but I was only tryi-”  
Sendo makes a sound, a hum, throaty and so low that as it rumbles across the line of the phone laced with static and breath, and Ippo covers his mouth. What - what was that?  
“Sendo-san?” It's a question, can't tell what the other man is thinking, if he's judging Ippo at this moment or if he is simply speechless about Ippo’s sheer pervertedness.  
“Me too” Sendo finally says and if Ippo felt lost before there is no hope for him now. He can't ask what that means, even though he doesn't need Sendo to clarify, ‘me too’ is quite clear enough.  
He can hear movement, the rub of leather, then a belt clinking, and finally faintly but so loud to him, a zipper being pulled loose.  
“Fuck…” Sendo sighs and Ippo closes his eyes because he can precisely see in his mind, what action made Sendo sound like that.  
The image comes too strong, too fast, and too vivid for Ippo to stand. Sendo, laid over a leather couch, sweat drenched from his spar still, stomach muscles tense, tight and in sight from his high riding shirt, and finally, to the long strong fingers gripping hard around hot weight, jeans just open enough that he’s hanging out but nothing more. The picture is so lewd, so pornographic in nature that Ippo flinches, opens his eyes wide to try and regain his balance.  
“S-Sendo-san?” Ippo says, a plea for understanding, for explanation. He has no idea how things turned like this but his blood mixed with heat is cresting in his veins, and pooling desire in his belly. He knows Sendo is touching himself, imagines probably still bandaged pulling over smooth skin. Ippo blinks the haze from his eyes, tries to ground himself in the reality he’s now living but it keeps slipping from his trembling fingers.  
“Keep going, I need ta-” Sendo says, rough and demanding.  
Keep going? What? Does Sendo want him too-?  
“I wanna hear you touch yerself.”  
Ippo's question is promptly answered, and there is a bust of bright achy fire that surges under his skin, makes his jaw drop, a shaky unrestrained sound leaving the cage of his mouth and sounding so foreign to his own ears, Ippo doesn't realize it came from him.  
“You sound good, Makunouchi.”  
“Sendo-san?” Ippo says, high and lost, like he's asking permission, trying to shake loose that last bit of his self control, so when Sendo murmurs, “I wanna hear ya, Makunouchi”, Ippo is unzipping his jeans in haste.  
He pins the phone to his shoulder, shifting his hips to pull himself loose of the denim, licking a line of damp over his palm to prepare it.  
The whole world is hazy, like looking through fogged glass, and Ippo shifts his focus to Sendo over the phone, the huffs of his breaths, the catch of sound at his throat. He's so focused that when he feels the gentle caress of air curl around his now exposed cock, he shudders out a sound, but it's Sendo's second hand reaction that has him gasping out a breath  
He already slick, Sendo's purring is doing things to him that have him spilling all over himself, and his first touch to his own heat has him hissing through his teeth.  
“That's right-” Ippo can hear the grin in his voice as Sendo speaks. “I bet ya wet, ain't ya.”  
Ippo twitches, thumb slipping down to catch beads of liquid that seem to be flooding from him, and his knees shake, braced out at an angle to keep from slumping down to the floor.  
“S-sendo-san, p - please.”  
Ippo moves over himself, nothing quick and hurried like what he hears over the phone, Sendo torching over himself. He can't do that, knows that if he moves too fast, he’ll finish too soon. Sendo's breathing is coming out hushed, fast as if the breaths are falling over themselves as they leave his mouth.  
It matches with the slick sound of Sendo's hand, wet and too loud, and it twists his insides, makes him quiver and gasp.  
The whole thing feels surreal, as if Ippo will wake up soon, shamefaced and dirty, but Sendo sounds too real too good on the phone, and no matter how vivid Ippo's imagination is, he would never be able to perfectly replicate those growling whispers.  
“If I was-” Sendo says, and his voice is still a deep purr, feels like a lick up his spine, setting his skin on fire, “-if I was there, what do ya want?”  
Ippo grits his teeth, filthy images springing up in his mind from the porn he's glanced at, not very long and definitely not very close, but enough that he knows what he would want.  
“I want-” Ippo is lost in the heat, teeth pulling in his lower lip, quivering with the coils twisting in his body. “I want Sendo-san to touch me.”  
If Sendo was here? Hands wrapped around him, hot to the touch, a kiss, like the one they shared on the hill, or after a spar. Yes, he wants Sendo to touch him, touch him everywhere.  
Sendo moans out, shifts on the leather couch from what Ippo hears, “yea, yeah…” he sounds muffled, “I wanna touch you too.”  
Ippo feels the next words come out of him, laced with honesty and heavy with a breath, “I want...Sendo-san… your mouth…. On me… I wa-”  
He's caught up, his hand moving in a stilted broken rhythm turns to a faster pace with that thought. He feels a blush come over his face, fast as a sunburn, and his self awareness kicks in. What did he just ask for? What would Sendo think of that?  
“I would, fuck I-” Sendo sounds broken, his words coming from the heat in the back of his throat, traveling down the line drenched in want and need. Ippo's hips buck into his own hand as Sendo continues; “I would- fuck I want…” Sendo can't seem to string more than a couple of words together, but how breathless and groaning he sounds is pulsing Ippo's blood hotter.  
“I want to suck you, Makunouchi. I want…. Fuck-” he trails off, his words turning into a hiss.  
Ippo thumbs over his slick head, knocking back his head against the wall almost dropping the phone. He reacts quickly, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to fix it more firmly against his ear. The pressure in his lower stomach feels too hot, rolling and boiling over and sending out dizzying waves, his knees feel weak, he has to recenter himself every couple of minutes or he'll slip down to the floor.  
He looks down at himself, sees how his hand holds thick hot weight, how he's dripping precum to the clean wooden floors, how the head of his cock is red and glistening with the promise of pleasure.  
And then he sees Sendo’s eyes, looking up at him, mouth split into a cocky confident grin, as he pressing his lips to his tip.  
Ippo gasps out, a full body tremor wrings his body into shudders, makes him freeze all movement and his tongue moves on its own, “Sen - Sendo, Sendo-san.”  
“Fuc-” he hears over the line, choked out, and Ippo hears Sendo move faster, “did ya come? Did you-”  
“No-” ippo manages, and his twitching hand resumes it's easy pace.’No, I just thought of you giving me a blo-’ “Not yet.”  
“Good.” Sendo coos, and Ippo feels the praise trigger another crashing wave drag him closer to an edge, “I want ya, I want ya to come with me.”  
Ippo's hisses again, like he's been stung, looks down again, imagines his hand being replaced by Sendo's, imagines Sendo opening his mouth to lick the pearly beads dripping from him. It's so dirty, it's so perverted, Ippo should be ashamed, but Sendo is gasping over the line, Ippo can hear him moving over a leather, how wet his groans feel, his name every other breath. What does Sendo-san look like right now? Is he laying over the couch, hand working hard over himself, exposed and naked to the world. Is he arcing up into the air, slick and glistening?  
How would he look? How does he taste? The fantasy rises from Ippo's hazy mind, as if it was always in place, his mouth hot over Sendo’s cock, looking up into sharp dangerous eyes, the sight of canine teeth indenting into his bottom lip, Sendo's bandaged hands in Ippo's hair and Sendo moving his hips, rolling into Ippo's mouth. Ippo feels phantom weight in his mouth, can feel his tongue heavy with salt, girth sinking deep to the back of his throat.  
That triggers more heat, something white and blinding fills him.  
“Sen-”  
He is so close, his voice is just moans, just gasps, and now he's moving faster, in sync with Sendo, who let's out an almost sob.  
“Sendo-san, I want to-” he doesn't know what he's saying, his lips are moving on their own, feeling lonely and his mouth feels too empty in the wake of the fantasies in his head, “I want to taste you, Sendo-san.”  
Something crashes to the floor on the line, almost brings Ippo out of his pleasure filled reverie but then Sendo hisses out, and distraction goes out the window, “S-shit, I'm- Makunouchi, I'm com- ”  
He doesn't finish, chokes on the end of his sentence and is silent except for muted whimpers.  
That doesn't bother Ippo, as soon as Sendo had said his name in that tone of voice, desperate and thick with heat and pleasure, he was already too far gone.  
The first wave feels like a tsunami, hitting him so hard his hips arch out to meet it, and the fire comes from the center of his body to the tips of his trembling fingers and toes, until he can't see anything but bright white in his eyes and his body shudders and twitches in pleasure. He spills into his hand, he can feel the hot mess he's making, sticky and heavy in his hands. His legs finally give out, and he drops the phone as he slumps to the floor.  
He needs to clean up, the floor is a mess, he still can't see straight and he feels too hot and suffocating, but he can't move. Everything seems to be upside down and on a different axis. He smells sweat and sex clinging to him, and the air feels hot and sticky.  
He can hear the phone buzzing, and he hastily picks it up.  
“Did ya come a lot?” is the first thing he hears.  
Sendo sounds like he's just run a marathon, like he's been fighting for ten solid rounds. Ippo figures he doesn't sound much better. He looks down at his hand, at his palm and fingers covered in shiny slick and sighs.  
“Yes…” he admits honestly, and wants to take a shower for a hundred years.  
Sendo barks out a laugh. “Me too.” He sounds delighted.  
Ippo blushes, and when he hears what sounds like a hand slapping over a puddle, or in this case, more likely Sendo tapping against his come covered stomach, Ippo feels his mouth go dry.  
The thought of come pooled in the the dips and curves of Sendo’s abs has Ippo licking at his lips, a familiar pressure building in his belly.  
“Sendo-san,” he starts to save himself, “ I should-”  
Sendo groans, sounds like he’d sitting up. ”Shit. I knocked over a box or something… I gotta clean up before coach comes back.”  
Ippo nods, getting to his knees to stuff his half hard cock into his boxers. He was lucky no one came by, and he also needs to wipe the floor of the evidence of his indecency. “Yeah.. me too.”  
“Hey.” Sendo sounds serious and Ippo pauses, “Hey, Makunouchi. Eh, ya should call me tonight. I wanna-”  
“I can't..” Ippo interrupts, quickly before Sendo can trigger another heat wave, zipping up his pants and getting to his feet, “My mom will be home and the phone in the hallway.”  
“Shit.”  
Ippo feels the disappointment too. He wants more, he wants to hear Sendo break apart in pleasure again and again. Now that he's had a taste of it, he can't seem to settle for what he lacked before.  
“Ya should get a goddamn cellphone.” Sendo says, “Then ya could hear me come all the time.”  
Ippo blushes, shy now that he’s semi decent, but his body responds nevertheless.  
“Sendo-san, please…” Ippo pleads, but Sendo only chuckles.  
“At least I'll have a lot to jerk off ta fer awhile.”  
Ippo bites at his lip. That does not help in the least, does the opposite in fact. Ippo should tell him that supplying more images for Ippo to suffer through is not nice but Sendo continues on.  
“Next time we're together…” he says, sounds a little hesitant, a little hopeful, “Meybe we can try some stuff, ya know. I did mean it when I said I wanna suck you off.”  
All of Ippo’s earlier carefully aversion is for naught because he is instantly hard again and filled with hot thoughts of Sendo on his knees before him, tongue warm and exploring.  
He groans, presses his legs together in order to readjust himself.  
“Sendo-san, I have to go…”  
“Ya really got me with the taste comment. I’ve never come so hard in my life.”  
Ippo is almost dizzy with heat again,and almost begs, “Sendo-san, please, I have to-”  
“Just thinking about it, me inside yer mouth, I wanna sink my hand in yer hair and go in deep. ah shit..” he trails of, and the squeak of leather tells Ippo that Sendo has still not put his pants back on. “Fuck, i’m hard again.”  
Ippo closes his eyes and breathes in deep. “i'm going to go now, Sendo-san… ah nice talking to you.”  
“ey wait, hold on a minute.”  
Ippo waits, even though he knows it is a bad idea. “Y-yes, Sendo-san?”  
“I’m going to jerk off ta ya right now. I want ya to do the same, got it?”  
Ippo coughs out, redder than he’s ever been before. He would never admit to mastarbation but Sendo sounds so sincere.  
“Um… I-” Ippo says, and looks around as if admitting and agreeing to this is a bigger indecency then coming all over his hand to his boyfriend's gasping moans in broad daylight, “O-okay. I’ll do it.”  
“Fuck.” Sendo says, sounds a little taken aback, a little lost. “‘kay, then. I’ll talk ta ya later, Makunouchi.” He finishes easily, as if this conversation had been completely normal and not literal phone sex. “bye.”  
“Goodbye, Sendo-san.” Ippo replies, soft and weak, “Have a good day.”  
“oh, I will.” Sendo ends with a dark promise, and Ippo sucks in a breath.  
There is a click, and then Sendo is gone, but not without leaving a fire still coursing through Ippo’s veins.  
He slips out of his sweaty shirt and wipes his hand and the floor. Then, very embarrassed but even more excited, he shambles to the bathroom, and he knows, far away in Osaka, Sendo Takeshi is doing the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk shipping to me @DipuCXOXO


End file.
